


Family Matters

by Tehri



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Belladonna is livid, Bungo is just done, F/M, Gerontius is a bit of a dick, Marriage Negotiations, So is Mungo actually, Sort-of-friends, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: Bungo and Belladonna may have decided that they wish to marry, but there is still the not so small matter of their fathers allowing it to happen. Not precisely being the best of friends, Mungo Baggins and Gerontius Took are more likely to be at each others' throats than to allow the dalliance between their children.





	

“Well, here we are,” Gerontius said with forced cheer. “Again.”

Mungo didn’t answer. He sat still like a statue in the chair on the other side of the Thain’s desk, and had fixed Gerontius with The Look again. The Look was not pleasant. In fact, it felt rather like being eyed by a goblin attempting to decide just how much they disliked you. It bothered the Thain; a Baggins should not manage to seem so intimidating. But that was Mungo Baggins for you. Respectable, about as easily moved as a mountain, armed with a sharp tongue and keen intelligence, and somehow terrifying.

“Funny how this has a tendency of happening, eh?” Gerontius tried for a grin, but couldn’t quite make it as carefree as it usually would be. “A Baggins and a Took falling for each other, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t call it funny,” Mungo said drily, his expression not shifting. “As I stated last time.”

“Yes, well, Hildigrim and Rosa were a special case,” Gerontius answered, hoping briefly that he was on safer ground with this topic. “Though you didn’t find it funny then because of her father, if I recall correctly.”

“Ponto is still attempting to convince others that you are not fit to remain as Thain,” Mungo stated gravely. “He still believes it all to be your fault.”

“In what way could it be my fault?” Gerontius asked, feeling somewhat affronted at the notion. “Hildigrim was and is an adult, and he and Rosa made a choice together. That they put the dessert before the main course, so to speak, is certainly none of my business.”

“And Ponto believes that your, and I quote, ‘reluctance to control your son’ caused his daughter’s reputation to be tarnished.”

“Well, perhaps Ponto should try being the father of twelve children, and see how well he can control them.”

“Ten.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You _were_ the father of twelve. There are ten, now.”

Gerontius tried to keep himself from leaping across the desk to take a swing at the other hobbit. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists.

“You needn’t remind me of the death and disappearance of two of my sons,” he snapped. “And here I thought you Bagginses were supposed to be _polite_.”

“We are,” Mungo answered calmly. “When necessary.”

“Do you exercise such loving care with your children as well?” Gerontius asked coldly, smirking when he saw Mungo’s eyebrow twitch. He’d hit a nerve. “Or do you repeat their failures to them daily?”

“This is getting off track.” Mungo sighed deeply and looked away. One had to admire his composure. “This is not what I am here for.”

“Oh, you’re not here to insult me?” Gerontius gave a bitter smile and crossed his arms. “Need I remind you, Mungo, that I am not particularly _happy_ about the situation either?”

“I have as much control of Bungo as you do of your own children,” Mungo said firmly. “And I certainly cannot control where his heart lies.”

Gerontius tried to resist the urge to laugh. He didn’t quite manage, and allowed a few chortles to escape. The Baggins-family, being relatively small, had always been very close-knit; that Mungo didn’t have any control of his eldest child was a ridiculous notion.

“No control of him?” he asked. “Pull another one, won’t you?”

“Getting him to behave and be a respectable gentlehobbit is not the same as control,” Mungo stated, raising an eyebrow again. “And as for his emotions, well, they are _his_. I would’ve thought you’d try to rein in your daughter a little.”

“Belladonna has always been headstrong.” Gerontius sighed and leant back in his chair, relaxing for a moment. Keeping up a game of insults would not do either of them any good now. They were both protective of their families, and perhaps it sometimes did more harm than good. “She goes her own way and chooses her own fate. And it would seem that she has chosen your lad.”

“Chosen and rejected,” Mungo grumbled. “Multiple times, I might add.”

“She is fickle, I’ll grant that,” Gerontius admitted with a small sheepish smile. “Her mother insists she has it from me.”

“That, I can imagine.”

“Well, she has a temper. And she seems to find arguments good for clearing the air, whereas your son does not.”

“I’ll admit, he prefers not to argue.” Mungo frowned, though he looked more pensive than worried; a Took was always more expected to favour arguments than a Baggins. “But he will, if provoked.”

“Speaking from experience?” Gerontius couldn’t help but grin. “I take it he has gotten into several quarrels?”

“Mostly with his brother,” Mungo admitted reluctantly. “And most of them recent, and about your daughter.”

“Well, she’ll be surprised. Having one Baggins vying for her attention was grand, but two? Must be a record.”

“She’ll be disappointed. I’m afraid Longo is more likely to sneer at her.”

“Ah. No approval?”

“Not from him, at any rate.”

“And from you?” Gerontius raised an eyebrow and gave his companion a searching look. “You did give your approval for Rosa and Hildigrim.”

“Against the wishes of Rosa’s father,” Mungo muttered. “And mostly because, as you said, they put the dessert before the main course.”

“Not what I asked.”

For a while, they stared at each other. Gerontius knew quite well that he was treading on thin ice; he’d prefer to avoid invoking the ire of a Baggins, but sometimes it was difficult. In this case, incredibly so. It was not about a cousin or niece or nephew this time. Mungo was, after all, the head of the Baggins family; Bungo would one day claim that title for his own, and he wished to marry the eldest daughter of the Thain. Said Thain had certainly not been deaf to the rumours of this being a political marriage, and he knew quite well that Mungo must have heard of them as well. It would, in a sense, further the interests of the Baggins family.

“The title of Thain is more ceremonial these days,” Mungo stated suddenly, and Gerontius wondered briefly if he had been thinking aloud. “If a political marriage was in any way wanted, it would have been to the mayor’s child. If, that is, said mayor was recently elected.”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Gerontius sighed. “Well, I’m glad to know that you’ve heard the same rumours as I, but I’d still like to know if you approve.”

“Whether I approve or not doesn’t matter,” Mungo answered firmly. “Bungo has made his choice, and Belladonna has made hers. I would be a hypocrite to keep him from marrying for love.”

“Ah yes, dear Laura,” Gerontius said airily, smiling as the stern look on Mungo’s face softened at the mention of his wife. “Wasn’t it a Bolger-lass your father tried to push you to marry?”

“Adaldrida Bolger, yes,” Mungo sighed. “In all honesty, I believe I chose wisely when I refused to marry anyone else than Laura. As did you, I should think.”

“Oh, no lass could compare to my Addie,” Gerontius laughed. “And at least my father knew he couldn’t convince me otherwise.”

 

* * *

 

 

“They’ll never agree,” Belladonna stated glumly as she paced back and forth in the garden. “Never. Father is about as pleased about this as a cat is to be dunked in cold water.”

“We can’t know for certain,” Bungo answered, watching her worriedly. “Please, Bella, calm yourself.”

“I _am_ calm,” Belladonna snapped. “But you said your father wasn’t happy about this either, and-“

“He’s unhappy about having to discuss all of this with your father,” Bungo corrected. “Nothing else. You know they’re not overly fond of each other.”

“Then what if they don’t agree? What if they only argue back and forth?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Belladonna threw up her hands with a frustrated shout and sat down beside him under the apple-tree. She’d been on edge for days, and the knowledge of their fathers not being particularly friendly did not help matters one bit. Bungo, for his part, seemed to be at a loss; he had explained to her that he’d not had the slightest interest in any hobbit before he met her, and she could understand that he didn’t know what he would do if their request for their fathers’ blessing was denied.

“We could elope,” she threw out, raising an eyebrow at him. “We could just… up and leave. Go to Bree, even. No one would ask.”

“Everyone would ask,” Bungo muttered. “And we’d be stopped long before we crossed the Brandywine, because your insane brothers would find us and hunt me for sport.”

“They would not.”

“The first thing they said to me today was that they wanted me to come along for a walk to the bear-dens south of here.”

“Well, maybe they would. A little. But not with actual intent to harm you.”

“Bella…”

“Point is, we could easily avoid them,” Belladonna insisted. “We wouldn’t _have_ to stick to the road. We could stick to the side, and we’d have plenty of places to hide. There’s always the road through the Green Hill Country, we could take that way.”

“Past Woodhall and the Marish?” Bungo said doubtfully. “How would we hide there?”

“Oh, there are lots of places.” She grinned at him; the idea seemed sound enough to her. “I could show you.”

“There are a lot of things you’ve said you’d show me,” he answered, raising an eyebrow at her. “And not all of them have been good.”

“Darling, I love you, but you really must try to be more optimistic about things.”

“I am not trying to be anything else than realistic.”

“That isn’t-“

“If you two are planning to elope, I suggest you stop making plans.” Both the young hobbits jumped with fright at the sudden voice of Belladonna’s father. Gerontius grinned at them, seeming pleased to have caught them off guard. “Beg your pardon, didn’t mean to startle you. Come along, you two.”

“You’ve decided?” Belladonna asked breathlessly, trying to keep herself from voicing the few choice words she had for her father’s way of sneaking up on her. “I mean, you actually-“

“Well, you shan’t find out if you stand here babbling, now will you?”

Belladonna and Bungo exchanged nervous looks, but followed the older hobbit in silence as he led them back into the Great Smials and along the winding tunnels. At first, it seemed that they were led towards the study; then Gerontius suddenly took a right and his companions paused.

“Father?” Belladonna said cautiously. “Aren’t we going to the study? Left?”

“Of course not,” Gerontius answered cheerfully. “Master Baggins bade me recall how late it was becoming, and if he and his lad would like to return home before sundown, they had best leave.”

“There is always the inn in Tuckborough,” Bungo tried, trying to think of an excuse to remain in Tookland for a little while longer. “We could stay there.”

“Ah, but your father has business in Hobbiton in the morning, and he sadly declined my offer to stay here for the night.” Gerontius glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Come along, come along, don’t keep your father waiting until he withers.”

They followed him, still throwing worried glances at each other. In the hallway, Mungo waited for them. He had his usual serious expression, and seemed no different from when he had arrived that morning.

“Time to go, Bungo,” he stated. “No time to dilly-dally.”

Bungo hesitated briefly, but as his father raised an eyebrow at him he quickly turned to say goodbye to Belladonna and her father. Only moments later, they were out the door and gone, and Belladonna swiftly turned to face Gerontius.

“Well?” she demanded. “Did you reach an accord? Or was this simply your way of tossing them out?”

“You have such little faith in your poor old father, my little vixen,” Gerontius answered with a lazy drawl. “It’s quite hurtful, really.”

Belladonna stamped on the floor, crossed her arms and glared at him. She felt ready to pull her own hair out, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew and was amused by it.

“Will you just tell me already?” she snapped. “Instead of toying with me like a cat with a mouse?”

“In due time, in due time.” He stretched and sighed. “A cup of tea is in order, I think…”

Before Gerontius could take two steps, Belladonna had rushed over to block the doorway he had intended to pass through. She looked completely livid.

“You can tell me right now,” she hissed, “or I’ll be going after them!”

“Of course we reached an accord.” Gerontius grinned at her, looking very pleased with his teasing. “Why on earth do you think we spent all day in that study? It certainly wasn’t to have tea and cake. All that arguing back and forth has me hungry, and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me go and have something to eat.”

“Not until you tell me!”

“’Thain is a ceremonial title’, indeed. No respect, not even from my own children. Well, my dear lass, do you really believe your father so heartless that he’d take away something that obviously makes you happy? If you do, I’d like to know what I’ve done to inspire such dislike!”

Belladonna let out a shout of frustration. Gathering in the doorways were her siblings, and her mother came out from the same direction they’d come from earlier and peered suspiciously at her husband.

“Gerontius, I do love you dearly,” Adamanta said. “But if you are to tease your daughter like this again, I’d like you to recall that you do not live alone in this smial.”

“Just a bit of fun, Addie-love,” Gerontius answered with a laugh. “I was wondering how long I could keep it up.”

“It _is_ funny, mother,” Isumbras piped up from behind Belladonna, grinning brightly at his parents from over her shoulder. “He’s got her so worked up that her ears are red!”

“Did or did you not reach an accord?!” Belladonna shouted. “Will you just tell me what it was you agreed on?!”

“Best not tease her any more, Isumbras,” Isengrim stated with a chuckle. “She just might turn her ire on you instead.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sitting in the carriage on the way back to Hobbiton, Bungo felt nervous. His father had not said a single word so far, and to tell the truth, it was beginning to drive him a bit batty. He threw glances at the older hobbit every now and then, trying to think of a way to ask what had been said in the study. Finally, just as he opened his mouth, Mungo spoke:

“I remember telling you that I couldn’t understand what you see in that lass, Bungo. I still can’t understand.”

Bungo deflated. The words repeated themselves in his mind, and he found himself staring down at his lap with the look of someone who had truly given up on his face. This was it. He would be told to stay away from Belladonna, he’d never get to see her again. He’d be forced to marry someone else, someone he probably wouldn’t even like. Mungo, however, glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I hadn’t finished, so you may wipe that look off your face, lad.” Bungo blinked and looked up at his father. What else could there possibly be to say? But Mungo calmly looked back at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. “To be fair, my father never understood what I saw in your mother either. It took four years to convince him, and all the while he’d tell me that Adaldrida Bolger would be a far better choice for me.” The older hobbit smiled suddenly, and the simple gesture lit up his stern face like a sun. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I don’t _have_ to understand. All I need to know is that you love her and that she makes you happy. She has coaxed you out of your shell somehow, and I’d be a fool to tell you not to marry her.”

“But she’s a Took,” Bungo blurted out. “You can’t stand them.”

“Correction; there is some history that makes it difficult for me to stand Gerontius,” Mungo answered, smirking at the dumbfounded look on his son’s face. “They’re good hobbits, all of them, for all that their manners need some work. Besides, look at your cousin Rosa. She’s perfectly happy with Hildigrim.”

“But you…” Bungo took a deep breath to steel himself. “Da, do you mean to say that you and the Thain reached an accord?”

“It was never our accord to reach,” Mungo snorted. “What he and I think is not important. We only want to know that you two will be happy.” A more serious look passed over his face once more. “There was a time when you were younger that I would have taken the moon out of the sky for you if it would have made you happy. You’re older now, and if it will make you happy to be wed to her, I will see it done.”

Throwing dignity and manners to the wind, Bungo threw his arms around his father and burst into tears, whispering “thank you, thank you” over and over again. Mungo only smiled and held him tightly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, here we are,” said Gerontius with a deep sigh as he sat down. “Again.”

Mungo hummed in response, puffing contentedly on his pipe. The sound of conversation and laughter carried easily in the evening air through the open window of the smial. It was a peaceful day.

“He’s very small, isn’t he?” Gerontius threw out, looking pensive as he thumbed some pipeweed into his own pipe. “Smaller than Bella was, if I remember correctly.”

“He’s very small,” Mungo agreed. “But so was Bungo.”

“Well, perhaps it’s the addition of Baggins-blood,” the Thain muttered, smiling as a match was offered to him by his companion. “Throws me off a little bit. You Bagginses tend to be smaller.”

“You Tooks are too big for hobbits,” Mungo replied easily. “Stop your fretting, the lad will be fine.”

“Fretting, who’s fretting?”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Oh yes, forgive me for being a little emotional,” Gerontius snorted. “I only just got to hold the first son of my eldest daughter for the first time, and who knows if there’ll be any more.”

“There won’t be.” Mungo’s expression turned grim for a moment. “The healer said it would be a bad idea. Bungo has already spoken to Bella about it.”

“That so…” Gerontius peered at his companion, grinning brightly all of a sudden. “Even you’re calling her Bella now. And last I saw you, you were still insisting on using her full name.”

“There may have been an incident,” Mungo stated. “Turns out she brought a few things with her when she went traipsing off beyond the borders.”

“Oh, of course, the books,” Gerontius laughed. “She bribed you.”

“She’s my daughter-in-law,” Mungo chuckled. “If she wants me to call her Bella, I might as well. Goodness knows Bungo only uses her full name if something serious is going on.”

“Did you hear what they named the lad?” Gerontius asked airily, grin only widening as he saw how Mungo’s shoulders slumped somewhat and a look of peaceful joy passed over the old hobbit’s face. “Suits him, doesn’t it, a variation of your father’s name?”

“It does,” Mungo sighed. “Bilbo is a fine name.”


End file.
